Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Wicked’s face scrunches up. “The fuck kind of shit have you been watching? Nah, that’s not how it is here. The old ladies wear what the fuck they want and they are protected while doing it, and here—” Wicked brings his eyes to Betty. “They ain’t called club sluts. They’re handlebars.”
Betty matches his look. “How is that any better?”
Wicked moves to the back of the car, opening Wolf’s door and pulling him out. He stares at me from the back once Betty is out of the car. “I mean it, Ruby. Don’t fucking test me.” I hold his stare, pouring gas onto the flame that burns between us. His eyes turn heavy. “Or do and see what the fuck I do.” He steps back and slams the door closed.
Sliding out of the SUV, I pop open the trunk and take out mine and Wolf’s bag, but Wicked takes it from me instead. He stops when he notices that I’m not following him, turning over his shoulder. I blink between him holding Wolf and the clubhouse in the background. The parked bikes on the side and the UFC ring behind the bikes.
“You’ll be fine, Rubs.”
I smile up at him, my Converse crunching over the loose gravel.
We haven’t made our way into the clubhouse when people are cheering, patting Wicked on the back, and touching Wolf on the cheeks. Khaos swaggers over to us, holding a little leather vest with the Wolf Pack MC patch on the back, flashing me a dazzling smile. “Mommy… will you allow it?”
“First of all!” I shake my head. “Don’t ever call me mommy like that again—” Because it was kind of hot. “Second of all…” Everyone silences. The cheers and happiness. Wicked stands, searching my eyes. He and I don’t agree on a lot of things, but something I have always felt with him is that he respects me.
Sometimes.
Just not when I don’t want him to.
“Of course.” I pat Wolf’s head before sidestepping away from them and pulling a stool up beside Betty, who is already talking to Poppy, making drinks behind the bar.
Dropping my handbag onto the table, I exhale and lower to the chair. “Please don’t tell me you’re living here?”
Poppy laughs, sliding over a glass filled with tequila. “I actually love it here. They’ve turned into my family, and anyway, I’m working the field now with Anon.” She rounds the end and sits beside me. “Which is fine because I have years to catch up with as far as Wicked and Wolf go.”
I take a small sip. “I feel you.” Sighing, I sit back on the stool. “I know what you mean about this place, though. It’s not exactly”—my eyes fly around the room—“unpleasant, which makes no sense.”
“Ehhh… you’re both on crack. I could never.” Betty swirls her drink with a toothpick before spinning around to face the crowd. “Or maybe—” Her head tilts. “Why are most of them good looking?”
Poppy and I burst out laughing. It’s the first time I’ve got to sit down with Poppy and really see how she has been. I told her about Wolf’s birth, how I hemorrhaged and lost so much blood that they almost needed to put me under. I feel a little guilty that I haven’t had the conversation with Wicked yet, but I figure we will have time.
It’s an hour later and I have pulled out my phone, looking through photos.
I flash my screen at Betty, Poppy long since taken off to play the doting aunty. “I’ll just wear this.”
Betty searches my eyes, her green depths falling in sadness. “Babe, I don’t think you should marry him.”
I pull my phone back and flick through more. “I don’t have a choice. I don’t have the same choices you do.” I tap on another. “This one?”
She doesn’t even look at it. “Fine, but I swear to God if he does any shady shit, I’m killing him.”
Splashing hot water onto my face, I rub in my oils and wipe the condensation from the mirror. The room isn’t as bad as I expected, and Wicked made sure there was a small bed in the room waiting for Wolf. He has been restless tonight, but I figure it has something to do with everything going on, since he wanted to stay downstairs with Wicked until nine.
The bathroom door opens and I turn, leaning against the basin while moving my hair over my shoulder. “Wicked!” I reach for the silky robe that’s hanging over the bathtub, but his hand catches my wrist, stopping me. Shit.
“Open your legs.”
“What!” I snap, shoving myself out of his grip, only it doesn’t work.
He picks me up from beneath my armpits, lifting me onto the basin. His hand comes to my upper thigh and he spreads the other wide. Thank God I’m wearing basic cotton panties, or this would have been a direct show for him. More than it already is.